Denial.

I quickly hurried around my bedroom, tidying everything up, throwing already worn clothes into the laundry basket in the corner of my room as I straightened out every little thing possible. I might as well have obsessive compulsive disorder at times like this. If everything isn’t perfect, I freak out beyond belief. And if my guest comes over and I find something wrong that I missed during my first sweep of my room, I internally freak out until I find the perfect chance to jump up and fix it without my guest noticing. Everything has to be perfect because I’ve somehow convinced myself that if everything is perfect, maybe he’d appreciate it and start to fall for me like I’ve so quickly fallen hard for him.

See, Dillon, of all people, is coming over to my house for our annual movie night. Dillon and I have an interesting friendship. We’re definitely not the best of friends, but we’re closer than your average set of acquaintances. We hang out whenever we have the time, but the only thing we really do traditionally is movie night. I don’t think I could deal with Dillon being my best friend. Seeing him in school every day and knowing that I can’t have him is enough to make my heart ache. If he were to be at my house almost every single day because we were best friends, it would truly be a living hell for me.

Most people look at us and think we’re insane because they’re so driven by stereotypes. It’s like a jock and a skater are commit social suicide when hanging out together, but neither of us really give a damn since we’re not immature brat’s like the great majority of our high school.

I can’t even remember when we started our odd friendship. I’m pretty sure it was freshman year… We had been paired to do a project or something along those lines together and we just realized that our personalities clicked well. And from there, at least on my end, I realized that I liked the way his hips would sway when he would walk, almost as much as I liked the way his skinny jeans would outline his wonderfully round ass or occasionally be so tight that they would leave nothing to your imagination. I liked the way his hair fell in his eyes, giving him a sort of innocent and childlike appearance at time. I leaned to like him, and then liking him turned to loving him and loving him turned to hopelessly loving him secretly. It’s all one complicated web really.

I jumped and quickly spun around on my heels when I heard a serious of knocks on my bedroom door, indicating that Dillon had probably already arrived at my house. Sometime throughout the hours of my obsessing over cleaning my bedroom, I had lost track of time. I looked in the mirror to make sure my appearance was actually somewhat presentable since I was in my usual jeans, t-shirt, and varsity jacket, hair trapped under a flat peak.

I opened the door of my room to reveal Dillon, skateboard in hand and a huge plastic bag from CVS pharmacy full of candy in the other. “I bought the goods!” He said seriously as he pushed his way past me, kicking his shoes off into the corner as he plopped down on one of the bean bags I have in my bedroom, leaving the bigger one for me since I was slightly taller than him.

“We’re so fucking fat that it’s not even funny,” I stated as I closed my bedroom door and locked it to avoid any unwanted intruders, meaning my mother and father. It’s pretty sad how I so quickly fell into the façade I put up around the boy that I’m in love with. I act like we’re just close friends and that I don’t have these huge feelings for him though I wish more than anything that my deep feelings were reciprocated.

“You’re coach is going to kill me,” he said matter-of-factly as he opened up his bag of skittles and spilled them all into a bowl I bought up, letting the starburst and twizzlers just fall all over the table. “Candy, Doritos, Tostitos, and sour cream and onion chips, obviously the meal fit for kings, so stop complaining and eat before I make you,” he said seriously, moving his hair out of his eyes temporarily so that I could clearly see his eyebrows were raised in the form of defiance.

“I’m not fighting you because I’d kill you,” I stated deadpan, though I really could never even think of harming the beautiful boy.

“Stop making me feel inconsequential,” he whined as he ran over to my stack of DVD’s and started to shuffle through it.

“I already got a DVD in the player. It’s some movie that my older brother loved though we’d both probably hate it simply for that reason,” I said around a mouthful of Doritos.

“It can’t be that bad.” He said as he pressed play, allowing the movie to start rolling. The words: Fast Times at Ridgemont High rolled across the screen.

We’re in for a long movie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That movie sucked!” I said, staring wide-eyed at the now black television.

“Your brother should rot in hell if he liked that,” Dillon muttered, staring at the screen just like I was.

“It’s because there’s tits galore,” I said, internally cringing though I somehow managed to get a wolfish grin on my face.

“They’re not even big! It was frightening!” Dillon shot back as laughter bubbled up from his throat.

“I think it was one of those movie’s that’s horrible, but you can’t help but love it because of the lines,” I said, trying to act all cool.

“Yeah!” Dillon said excitedly, punching me in the shoulder. “I mean, a teacher named Mister Hand. That’s pure genius!” He said around another fit of laughter, something I laughed at too. It amazes me that we can act so immature at the tiniest of jokes.

“I’ll never look at a bagel the same way…” I said after a while, wiping tears away from my eyes because I was laughing so stupidly hard at such a stupid thing.

“You’re not the only one, man!” He said around a laugh. “Same with stereo salesmen,” he said as he nudged my shoulder again, showing me that it was a joke.

I laughed dryly at that one, knowing that he was implying that it was weird to like a man.

“And carrots,” I tacked on after a while, trying to temporarily forget that I was in love with him and go back to allowing myself to live in this delusion.

“Now we know how girls get so good,” he said thoughtfully as he stood up. “They practice on carrots.”

I shook my head, eyes rolling as I stood up and walked to the DVD player, taking the DVD out and throwing it over my shoulder randomly. I’d be perfectly fine with never watching that movie again.

“I’ll see you later?” I asked him, doing my best to keep the hopefulness out of my voice as he walked to the corner of my room to slip on his Vans again, flicking his hair out of his eyes so he could peek at me in the process.

“We have school tomorrow, Jordan,” he said around a laugh, his tone implying that I just clearly had a moment.

“Damn, I was so hoping it was already the weekend,” I deadpanned.

He laughed again before opening my bedroom door and waving goodbye, kicking up his skateboard with his foot. “How do you even ride that thing?” I asked incredulously, knowing I’d never be able to balance on a piece of wood with wheels.

“Skill, Jordan. It’s all skill. I should totally teach you some time,” he said quietly.

Despite my better judgment, I found myself nodding and agreeing with his plan, forgetting what would happen if coach found out I went out and risked injury on a skateboard. “Cool,” Dillon said. “See ya around!” He screamed as he walked down the hallway and out my front door.

I walked over to my window and drew the drapes back, peeking at his retreating figure through the window.

Why does he gave to be so fucking perfect?